


Just About Right

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hawkeye clint, Lingerie, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Nurse Bucky Barnes, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:07:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: “You - you got me a present?”Clint regretted it the moment the question was out of his mouth.He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that he had fucked up experiences and opinions and he was usually better at keeping them to himself. Usually, when Bucky wasn’t involved. When Bucky’s bare chest wasn’t distracting him.“Of course I got you a present, sweetheart. It’s Dead Captain Cook Day.”Clint snorted a laugh, had to.This was… a thing for Bucky. Growing up Jewish in a country that generally ignored or denigrated anything that wasn’t in the western christian tradition, Bucky had had his own cultural holidays overlooked and christian ones shoved down his throat often enough that, sometime during his time in the Army, he’d decided to start actively celebrating alternative holidays on widely accepted US holidays.“Who the fuck is Captain Cook?”Bucky grinned at him and balanced on first one foot and then the other as he pulled off his boots and socks.“Colonizer. Killed by native Hawaiians when he tried to kidnap one of their chiefs.”“Nice,” Clint said, kind of teasing but also kind of into it.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 8
Kudos: 160





	Just About Right

**Author's Note:**

> For everyone who takes the time to read the things I scribble and put out into the world - Happy Valentine's Day and thank you so, so, so much for all the love you've given me and my words.
> 
> Most especially for CB, Sarah and Ro - thank you, you three, for being so damn amazing.

Watching  _ Grey’s Anatomy _ had given Clint a lot of (as it turns out) false expectations about dating a nurse.

For one, hospital sex is both more and less common than that show would have him believe. Also, more lawsuits. Less people exploding and more septicemia. 

The biggest difference was that Clint’s nurse, the hot as hell, competent as all fuck, scary motherfucker, Bucky goddamn gorgeous Barnes, worked his ass off pulling twelve hour shifts four days a week, usually three in a row, instead of maintaining whatever the hell schedule people on  _ Grey’s _ had. Though, to be fair, the show had never really focused on the nurses, which… was kind of fucked up.

Clint’s experience with medical care - mostly of the emergency fashion, mostly of the ‘I know this looks bad but’ kind of thing - was mostly okay, mostly at the hands of nurses, and mostly… not with the outrageously attractive brand of actors on  _ Grey’s _ . Well, until Bucky, anyway. 

Maybe that was why  _ Grey’s _ focused on doctors instead - they had more time to fuck around.

The point, though, was that scheduling shit with Bucky - couple things like dinners out and weekend getaways and all the romantic shit Bucky’s sister Becca kept suggesting Clint do for Bucky - was kinda a pain in the ass.

Worth it, definitely, of course, when it worked out. But more often than not, Clint had to end up cancelling reservations - Bucky had the habit of picking up extra shifts, switching with people who had things come up, filling in when there was an emergency.

Apparently this had been a point of contention, with Bucky’s past boyfriends, with his family. Clint literally couldn’t count the number of texts Becca or Winnifred, Bucky’s mother, sent him making note of Bucky cancelling on something or asking why on earth Bucky wouldn’t be going to something or other.

Which - 

It was kinda funny, in a weird as hell way.

That  _ Clinton Francis Barton _ , Hawkeye, Dumpster Fire of the Year twelve years running in Natasha’s unofficial poll, was being treated as the ‘responsible’ party in this relationship. Weird, funny,  _ wild _ .

Bucky had warned him, the same night he dragged Clint to his first  _ seder _ with the Barnes’, that Winnifred would make Nick Fury’s brand of manipulation feel like child’s play and that Becca would make Clint feel both worthless and fully responsible for every single bad thing that had ever happened to Bucky.

He hadn’t been wrong.

And Clint, who had been raised by… or some equivalent of it, first miserable angry drunks who got themselves killed fighting in the car, then by a criminal circus ring and finally by himself for a year before Coulson saved his ass; for Clint, it was a  _ lot _ .

Thank fuck for Natasha, and Sam, and even, bizarrely, Tony Stark. Sam with his level head and ability to call you out on your bullshit with just a look - and who, apparently, already knew Bucky from both of their time in the service, when Bucky had been a medic and Sam with pararescue. Natasha shared Clint’s general fucked up past - though wildly different and vastly worst - and completely understood his instincts to duck and run but refused to let him. And then Tony, Tony, who, it turned out, knew a hell of a lot about romance. And about impressing Jewish mothers, or at least, attempting to - Tony’s issues with his mother were vastly different than those with his father but no less lacking.

So…

So, against all odds and Clint’s entire history, he and Bucky had been dating for almost eight months. And sure, between Bucky’s job and Clint’s, they spent more time texting and facetime-ing than actually being physically together but, hell, it was still seven months longer than the marriage Clint had had - and a hell of a lot healthier and better.

And, miraculously, both Bucky and Clint were in town and off work for Valentine’s Day. 

Barring any large scale global emergencies that would require a full Avengers team, Clint was free and off-duty for the next forty-eight hours and so was Bucky.

He wasn’t going to go with one of Becca’s suggestions for how to woo her brother - well meaning, sure, but… not quite Clint’s style and honestly not so much Bucky’s these days either. 

After a few cups of coffee with Tony yesterday - at least half of each mug had been coffee, and if the other half had been very expensive whiskey, Clint didn’t actually pour it himself so he could pretend it had just been coffee - Clint had finalized his plans for the night.

Now, all he needed was, of course, Bucky.

Who was, of course, running late.

Which was fine.

It was cool.

Twenty minutes was nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

Clint’s nerves, on the other hand?

He was a sniper, steady as a rock and dependable and laser focused when it came to missions, to  _ work _ . 

But without a clear mission objective, without bad guys to take out and good guys to save… with just  _ himself _ to focus on, Clint usually fell apart.

That he was doing this - all of  _ this _ Valentine’s Day stuff - was kind of a big deal. Not the whole expressing his love and devotion to and for Bucky. Clint had done that on their first date.

Bucky refused to call it a date - dates were  _ scheduled _ and Clint stumbling into the ER with three bullets in his belly and a traumatized kid under his arm and threatening to fight anyone who tried to treat him before the kid first wasn’t  _ scheduled _ after all.

All the same, Bucky had been there, had been on the team that had saved Clint’s life and had been there when Clint woke up hours later, feeling like roadkill and he’d been the one to threaten to break Clint’s fingers if he tried to pull his IV out again. So of course Clint had taken one fuzzy, opiate-glossed look at the gorgeous, angry nurse and professed his love.

He’d spent all of his time since trying to figure out why the fuck  _ Bucky _ felt anything towards Clint at all outside of exasperation. Yes, Clint was hot - he’d had to use his looks since he was five, he knew they were one of his best features and certainly one of his most marketable. Yes, the whole superhero thing worked for some people - but not Bucky. Bucky said shit like how proud he was of Clint, how strong and amazing he was - bullshit that Clint tried to argue away - but he didn’t use it as a come on, not like a few of the bad hookups Clint had had in the past. But outside of being a hot superhero? It wasn’t like Clint had a lot going for him - he didn’t even have a GED, hadn’t been to school at all since he’d been eleven, he’d been fired from SHIELD after the Loki thing, which was rich, to be fired by a secret Nazi organization, and, well, there was that whole Loki thing.

Clint was a disaster and Bucky was… so very much not.

Still, no matter how many times Bucky was confronted with that reality, he refused to budge, refused to back down from his statements that Clint was amazing and brave and smart. Had said  _ he _ loved Clint on their third date, when Clint had won a stuffed elephant at a shitty carnival and given it to a kid whose brother had dumped her ice cream on the ground.

If Bucky wanted to willfully ignore all of Clint’s faults, Clint wasn’t enough of an idiot or a masochist to fight him over it.

So…

So here Clint was, alone, thirty minutes after when Bucky had said he’d be there, standing in his bedroom mostly naked and looking at himself in the mirror and  _ maybe _ freaking the fuck out. A little bit.

Mostly naked, because, well…

The thing was, maybe drinking three cups of whiskey-coffee with Tony hadn’t actually been a good idea.

Tony’s advice for Valentine’s Day? Big gesture, romantic gestures - be vulnerable and give Bucky something he was afraid to even ask for from Clint.

So… here Clint was, wearing an assless, crotchless fishnet bodysuit, bed covered in flower petals, feeling like an utterly stupid idiot.

They’d done to see a burlesque show, months ago, something Bucky’s friend was in apparently, and Clint was a sniper and a spy, okay? He was trained to notice things. Things like the way Bucky stared at the men in fishnet tights. The way Bucky stared at Clint’s biceps whenever they were bare. The way he damn near worshipped Clint’s ass. 

So, Bucky had never said anything, had never asked Clint how he felt about… fishnet, but Clint knew how to take intel and formulate a plan. Finding the bodysuit - not really a bodysuit, really, since it stopped mid thigh and the torso was cut in an A-tank style that exposed way more bare skin that the thin net actually covered - had been easy. 

Convincing himself he didn’t look like an absolute moron with his dick and his ass out? Not easy.

And getting harder (and softer) by the minute.

Clint was maybe two minutes away from saying fuck it and pulling on sweats and a hoodie when he heard keys at the door to his apartment.

He sagged in relief and then struggled to calm the fuck down.

“Clint?” Bucky called out. 

“Upstairs,” Clint yelled back. No way in hell was he going to be able to walk down the loft stairs to greet Bucky properly.

He heard Bucky dropping his bag, toeing off his shoes, and then eventually making his way up the stairs.

Clint struggled for calm, tried to breathe the way he forced himself to when he was in a nest, waiting to take a shot.

Bucky caught sight of Clint and face planted on the stairs.

“Oh fuck,” Clint said and scrambled over.

Bucky pulled himself up before Clint could help and Clint was left standing there awkwardly and uselessly.

“Clint?” Bucky sounded breathless - no doubt thanks to the stairs.

“Buck?” Clint tried on a smile.

“You, uh… holy shit, Clint.” Bucky’s quicksilver eyes roamed over Clint, head to foot and back up, back down to his groin for a second glance that had Bucky’s cheeks flushing, and then back up again to meet Clint’s gaze.

“I, uh… Happy Valentine’s Day,” Clint said.

“Hell yeah it is,” Bucky stepped forward, arms going to Clint’s hips and hauled him close. “Best damn Valentine’s gift ever,” he said just before kissing Clint.

Another great thing about Bucky: he knew what he wanted and he damn well got it. That what he wanted was Clint… well, Clint sure as hell wasn’t going to put up a fight. Ever.

Bucky growled into Clint’s open mouth when his hands felt the lower edge of the bodysuit, the curve of fabric that ended above Clint’s ass and left him open and ready for… whatever.

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky said. He drew back a little, nipped Clint’s bottom lip as he did and then looked up at him with dark eyes.

“You look fuckin’ incredible, Clint,” Bucky said. He was big on praise - had been from the start, from their  _ first _ date when he thanked Clint for not pulling out his IV again and told him he was good, was doing good, just laying there and talking to Bucky instead of trying to escape medical care.

“I, uh, yeah?” Clint hated that he blushed.

Bucky kissed him again.

“Hell yeah.”

Clint stepped back, dragged Bucky with him until they were closer to the bed.

Until Bucky could  _ see _ the bed, or at least chose to look past Clint and focus on it.

It had taken a while, had taken three trips to the florist - how the hell was Clint supposed to estimate how many rose petals it would take to write  _ Let Me Suck That Dick _ on his mattress?

Bucky’s lips curved up and he looked back at Clint again.

“Baby, you can  _ always _ suck my dick,” he said.

Clint smirked, had to, because, well, he knew that Bucky was a fan - of Clint’s dicksucking skills. And Clint? Big fan of Bucky’s big dick. So it worked out really, really well.

“I, uh, one more thing,” Clint said.

He stepped away from Bucky and went to the nightstand and picked up the red envelope there.

Bucky gave him another smile, soft and lopsided - Clint’s favorite of Bucky’s incredible smiles - as he took the envelope.

He opened it up, pulled out the cheesy  _ Be Mine _ Valentine’s card that featured an arrow piercing a heart on the front.

Bucky huffed a laugh at that, flicked open the card and had to fumble to catch the folded slip of paper that fell out. His forehead creased as he unfolded it.

“Is - oh.”

He looked from the paper up to Clint and raised both eyebrows.

Clint shrugged.

“Safety first, right, Buck?”

It had been Bucky’s parting shot, when Clint had checked out of the hospital after a four day stay. He’d given Clint his phone number, a kiss on the cheek and a threat to kick his ass if he didn’t start putting his own safety first.

Bucky held up the paper, Clint’s most recent test results. 

He’d been in the clear before, hadn’t been with anyone for months before Bucky and had a round of tests to prove it. Bucky, too, had been clear, but they’d waited, because Bucky had been dating someone until about a week before he met Clint. And Clint, well, Clint routinely got exposed to all kinds of shit and beaten up on his job. So they’d waited, and Clint had gotten tested again and…

“This mean you want to suck my dick bare, baby?” Bucky asked, voice low and rough.

Clint licked his lips, had to.

“Yeah, I - fuck yes, please.”

Bucky smirked.

“Yeah? Seems like it’ll be a mess.”

Clint sure fucking hoped so.

Bucky seemed to get that there was absolutely no way Clint could keep up any kind of banter right now.

“On the bed, sweetheart. I wanna look at you all spread out for me.”

Clint scrambled to comply, could probably make it look sexier but, well… efficiency. 

He did spread out though, bent his right leg to rest the sole of his foot on the mattress so that Bucky got a good view of his ass as well, the glimmer of slick lube between his thighs.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Bucky groaned. “You gonna suck my dick and then climb into my lap so I can fuck that tight, little ass?”

“Yeah, fuck yes.”

Bucky smirked, confident and so, so hot.

He pulled off his sweater and tossed it onto the floor.

“Guess my present will have to wait til later, huh?” Bucky suggested as he pulled off his t-shirt to join the sweater.

“You - you got me a present?”

Clint regretted it the moment the question was out of his mouth.

He wasn’t an idiot, he  _ knew _ that he had fucked up experiences and opinions and he was usually better at keeping them to himself. Usually, when Bucky wasn’t involved. When Bucky’s bare chest wasn’t distracting him. 

“Of course I got you a present, sweetheart. It’s Dead Captain Cook Day.”

Clint snorted a laugh, had to.

This was… a thing for Bucky. Growing up Jewish in a country that generally ignored or denigrated anything that wasn’t in the western christian tradition, Bucky had had his own cultural holidays overlooked and christian ones shoved down his throat often enough that, sometime during his time in the Army, he’d decided to start actively celebrating alternative holidays on widely accepted US holidays.

“Who the fuck is Captain Cook?”

Bucky grinned at him and balanced on first one foot and then the other as he pulled off his boots and socks.

“Colonizer. Killed by native Hawaiians when he tried to kidnap one of their chiefs.”

“Nice,” Clint said, kind of teasing but also kind of into it.

Bucky’s grin turned more than a little wicked.

“Right?” He agreed as he straightened back up.

Bucky was still grinning as he thumbed open his jeans and rested his fingers against the zipper fly.

“Buck?” Clint prompted.

“Yeah?”

“Uh… about that dick we made plans for?”

“It’s right here,” Bucky assured him and used his free hand to palm his own dick, hard and thick within the confines of his jeans.

“How about, uh, sharing with the class?”

Bucky chuckled, but he did relent.

He pulled his jeans down and - 

Fuck, he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

He  _ knew _ how Clint felt about him going commando, just so casually naked under his clothes and -

“Fuck,” Clint groaned.

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

Bucky climbed onto the bed and knelt between Clint’s spread legs.

“So gorgeous,” Bucky said, eyes hot and dark and entirely focused on Clint.

Clint swallowed hard, totally wasn’t blushing - still? Again? - and jerked his chin at Bucky.

“Right back at you, stud.”

Bucky chuckled and started to move over Clint, dragging his fingers up Clint’s legs, nails scratching the fishnet fabric and Clint’s skin as he moved up his thighs and belly and chest. 

He straddled Clint’s lap, rested his weight fully on Clint and wrapped his arms around Clint’s shoulders.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Bucky said and kissed Clint again.

It was soft, deep and, for all that it made Clint’s heart pound and his dick ache, it was  _ soft _ and Clint felt just a little bit overwhelmed by it, by Bucky.

He wrapped his arms around Bucky, held him close and tight.

“Love you,” Clint said.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m damn lucky you do.” Bucky kissed his way across Clint’s jaw, bit his ear lobe just this side of painful so that Clint shivered.

“I love you too,” Bucky said into the shell of Clint’s ear, his good ear, where his hearing was only a little fucked instead of a  _ lot _ . “Now get on the floor and suck my dick.”

-o-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Look, I know. I KNOW. I truly was going to write the porn but I lost track of time and the kid came into the sewing room and saw my work project and now SHE wants one too and she has the SICK EYES and I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
> 
> Uh... but like, also, totally cool if anyone wants to write a sequel to this............ featuring.... sexy times...... cough, cough.


End file.
